


I'm Not One For Change, (But I Know You Are)

by AN1MALCRACKERS_ (AnnieTheIdiot)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, Minor Injuries, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Wilbur's Pets, Nostalgia, Phil will be a good dad soon i promise, Private School, Swearing, Treehouses, Very Minor, Very small mentions of injury, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, because TommyInnit, eventual hurt/comfort, is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29896026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieTheIdiot/pseuds/AN1MALCRACKERS_
Summary: Tommy doesn't use his treehouse for many things anymore. Maybe he'll linger a bit by the rope ladder on the way home from school, fishing for the motivation to climb up; just like old times. He never does.____On a rare occasion, Tommy decides to head up to his treehouse, the last thing he expected was for someone to climb up with him.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 48





	I'm Not One For Change, (But I Know You Are)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey besties !!! So please don't mind if the tags are all messed up, I haven't posted on ao3 in the longest time so I might've screwed something over. Also, I am so sorry to all the soccer players I dissed in this chapter haha

Baby blue paint peeled off wooden planks haphazardly nailed to the winding branches of a tree. The Tree sat outside the boundaries of the front yard of a kind household. Said household was headed by a kind man, young considering the ages of his oldest and middle children. Though considering that none of his kids shared but a shred of similarity, both in personality and physical looks, you could put two-and-two together and guess the children were adopted. Maybe two hours earlier, a relatively dingy car pulled out of the driveway, sputtering down their street before turning a corner, only leaving a concerningly dark trail of smoke behind. A sixteen-year-old boy with dishevelled blonde hair pulled himself on to the floor of this grungy excuse of a treehouse, gingerly testing the planks, unsure of how well they could carry his weight. He hadn’t used this treehouse in years, mainly after one of his older brothers left for college. It had been a sad goodbye, his aging father potentially shedding a tear or two as his middle child left to a university far off. 

The boy was frustrated. It had already been hard when the oldest child left. His stupid name and stupid hair now but a memory as he’d gone off to a fancy university where all the dumb nerds went. The boy sighed, finally hoisting himself onto the platform. Now it was back to being lonely for months till one of his brothers stayed for a week. They were both so… different. He was sure his ‘dirty crime boy’ of an older brother had some stupid secret, he was acting all weird, even their father noticed it. 

He was always weird, but now he was weird  _ and _ secretive. Ew. The teen’s older brother certainly hadn’t been the most open person when they all stayed together, but this was on a whole new level. One night after heading to bed, the blonde ran all the possibilities through his head. These went from underage drinking to killing somebody. Knowing his brother, each seemed just as likely. A dry laugh sounded through the treehouse, it was amusing thinking of the old times, when life was just… Easier. 

His smile faded as he remembered that he wasn’t in the old days anymore, and now he was lonely. He didn’t have  _ no _ friends. Okay, he kind of did. But most of the friends he (didn’t) did have were busy all the time with after-school activities. After-school activities required two things. 

  


  1. Copious amounts of money (no after-school activity is a reasonable price).


  1. Actual interests.



It’s not like he didn’t have any, he just hadn’t found any yet. Right? He’d been into soccer when he was little, but he’d gotten pulled out when his older brother’s  English and music camps racked up a hefty price. It’s not like he minded. His oldest brother had the most ridiculously huge grin on his face when he got accepted. When talking about his friends he met there-Get this- he  _ laughed. _ Insane. The blonde probably could go back into soccer now, but all the clubs for kids his age were almost entirely made up of kids who played the sport as a  _ religion.  _ Those kids were completely and utterly mad, in his humble opinion. Plus, nobody in school liked them anyway. 

Who would? The egotistical bastards. Walking around in their fan-jerseys like they’re all that. Anyone that has ever played soccer  ** ever ** , is the worst, hands down. 

Even if he had no friends from anywhere, he had his dad, right? Yeah, no. His dad tried. Emphasis on the word  _ tried _ . Everyone can try to do something, but not everyone is going to be able to do it. His father was one who couldn’t. He was brilliant when it came to his two oldest children, able to understand them in a way that felt almost superhuman. When it came to his youngest, this ability didn’t work. It was frustratingly difficult for the two of them to connect, arguments and disagreements far to frequent. It was easier with the other two there to ease the tension, but now there was nothing to stop them. They were both trying, without a doubt they were. The blonde just didn’t know what to do. Communicate? How is he supposed to initiate that conversation? It would be so impossibly awkward to have that chat. What is he supposed to say anyway? ‘Hey Dad, I think you need to parent me different’ Different? He didn’t even really know what needed to be changed. Just that something wasn’t working out for him. 

“Tommy!” Tommy Innit-Watson groaned at the sound of his name, longing for about four seconds ago, when he had been  _ thinking _ about his father rather than listening to him. His father popped out of the front door and brought his hand to his eyes, to shield from the sunset. Looking around, Tommy realised how late it was. The slow warming of his surroundings signalling the end of a day had been subtle due to its speed, so he hadn’t noticed. His father opened his mouth to speal and any peace, positivity or happiness that was shown on Tommy’s face fell. His father wanted to have a  _ conversation _ . Conversations weren’t their strong point. Tommy knew that barely being able to have a complete, long-ish, non-awkward conversation with any parental figure probably was not a good thing, Far from it, really.

“Dinner in twenty.” His father said before spinning on his heel and re-entering their house. It was small, brick with green accents. Their house wasn’t ugly, but it certainly wasn’t big on aesthetics. Most of their furniture was from second-hand stores or pop-up shops or garage sales. They took what they could get, so everything was bound to look a bit mismatched. An art-deco stool here, a vintage couch there, they had a little bit of everything. Anyone who visited had a hard time deciding if the variety was charming or an unflattering oddity. It was times like those where Tommy was thankful for societal norms that dictated that you weren’t supposed to insult somebody’s furniture choices. That didn’t stop him and his siblings from taking the piss out of each other’s bedrooms at any given opportunity. 

To be fair, they had good reason to. The oldest sibling, Technoblade (or just Techno), had a room akin to that of a grandmother, rose patterns decorating the blankets and the rocking chair in the corner. Oddly placed tassels covered most places. At least his room matched his hair, a pale rose colour. Tommy thought he wore it like a grandmother, too.

As for Wilbur, the middle child, his room was an absolute mess. He tried to redeem himself by claiming that his room was ‘Avant Garde’ and ‘modern’, though the others knew it was just plain weird. Wilbur had tried to keep a theme, only really choosing angular items when he could. It kind of fell apart as he got older, Wilbur losing care for what went in and deciding that if it worked, he’d take it. 

As for Tommy, he wanted to be better than his siblings. Plus, he saw how they made fun of each other and decided that he didn’t want to suffer the same way they did. His theme was ‘red’. It was his favourite colour after all. Some things were more difficult to find a properly red version of, so his drawers were stained a salmon hue. Said drawers held an assortment of trinkets tommy had collected over time, whether it be from his time with Phil or previous foster homes. He had a funko pop of some now irrelevant cartoon character that had been vandalised and defaced by some old off-brand markers owned by some of his old foster siblings. He didn’t remember much about them, other than that they were twins, a boy and a girl. The girl had flaming red frizzy hair and was teased about it in school. The boy had more of an orange tint to his hair, and it was straighter and closer to a blonde. They were clearly related though, with the same pinched face and tiny nose, upturned with small nostrils. Both of their skin glowed with a rather unhealthy pallor, so pale that it was as if you could squint and see their organs underneath. In the summers, they had to coat themselves with layers upon layers of sunscreen, so they resembled vampires even more. 

It surprised Tommy how much he could recall about those kids. Perhaps the reason Tommy remembered so much about them was that they were from one of the more pleasant families he’d stayed in. It was a far less crowded home than usual, a calm family with two children, the parents  _ just _ too old to have any more kids the biological way. In the end, the experience just wasn’t for them. 

It wasn’t because he got into fights. That would be silly.

Each of his little objects had its own story, a little anecdote that would make for great small talk (That is, if anyone listened).

Snapping out of his thoughts, Tommy gripped a section of one of the planks that was damaged slightly to ground himself. It hurt slightly, and Tommy probably got something stuck in his palm, but he couldn’t feel anything, so it must’ve been only little. Looking around a little he saw that the tint of gold the sunset had cast over his surroundings had only intensified, leaving the once-green leaves now with a golden tone. It was reminiscent of the autumn coming; amid his distraction, Tommy had believed-for only a second-that the changing of the seasons had arrived. It honestly wouldn’t come as a surprise, considering he had been sitting for so long his lower back had begun to ache against the uneven planks that made up the bulk of their treehouse. Even though he was aching a bit. The scenery made everything just a bit more peaceful, the awful squawks of the ugly birds that made up majority of the wildlife in their neighbourhood no longer uncomfortable, but peaceful, even. That didn’t distract from the rustling just below the floor of Tommy’s  _ precious _ treehouse-

Wait.

What?

Huh?

What rustling?

Tommy’s head shot to face the noise so fast he was sure he got some sort of whiplash. He stared, blue-green eyes wide with shock at the sudden sound. Tommy didn’t do well when it came to sudden noises. If it was a voice he could easily recognise, then it was okay. He might be a little spooked, but he would recover, any concern waved off with talk of being a ‘big man’ and all that. However, what scared him more in this current moment wasn’t the continuous rustling from under the floorboards, but it was when Tommy stared at the source of the noise, someone stared, back. Now coming to the realization that a complete stranger was in  _ his _ treehouse, Tommy squealed. There was no ‘macho’ way of saying this. If you heard it, you would understand. He sounded like a piglet in a blender. 

Scrambling so his back was against the wall furthest away from the intruder, he tried his best to sound strong and manly while still recovering from what he could safely say  ** had ** to be the worst shock of his life. 

“Who are you and what are you doing here!” The trespasser said nothing, just hoisted himself up onto the floor of the treehouse, before shifting his gaze back to meet Tommy’s. 

Now that he thought about it, it technically wasn’t trespassing? Okay, I’ll explain. Tommy’s treehouse sat outside the boundaries of their yard, so it wasn’t really on their land, but everybody that lived there knew that it belonged to that Household, so they never touched it. Maybe this kid-oh right, this is a literal child in his treehouse. Legally, Tommy was  _ also _ a child, but that didn’t matter at all. At  _ all. _ He was a big man at heart. Plus, he was tall! He was what? 6’3? That sounds like the height of a very big man. Anyway, maybe this kid in his treehouse wasn’t from here. Oh, he definitely wasn’t from here. His school uniform said it all. It reeked of rich private schools and was ugly to add more on. Awful, itchy socks with weird patterning reached all the way up to this poor kid’s knees. A maroon blazer with an overly complicated logo on the right breast sat over an uncomfortable-looking white button-up. Tommy’s gaze headed up and- oh god. He had to stifle a gag when his eyes grazed over the awful excuse of a hat that sat atop this guy’s head, held up by his messy Brunette hair. The hat looked as if it was made of sandpaper, and probably itched like it too. Man, this whole outfit looked itchy. 

“Your uniform is shit.” Tommy blurted out, making eye contact once again. A brief change of expression washed over the boy’s face, before going back to the neutral look it had before. 

“Well nice to meet you too. I’m Tubbo.”  The boy Tubbo reached out his hand for Tommy to shake, and the blonde raised a sceptical eyebrow before accepting the shake. Tubbo’s face lit up, and he shook Tommy’s hand vigorously. His gaze darted around the treehouse so quickly it made the whiplash-inducing turns Tommy made when Tubbo first announced his presence seem like they were merely at a snail’s-pace. 

“This is a lovely treehouse! I didn’t know that they built these for the general public.” Tubbo exclaimed, the same grin stretching ear-to-ear. 

“This isn’t  _ for _ the general public, Tubbo.” The last word melted into a passive-aggressiveness Tommy only ever used when talking to Phil or Technoblade. Not Wilbur. Wilbur was way too good at the whole ‘passive aggressive’ thing; it would be an embarrassment if Tommy even tried it with him. He’d tried it once, and that was probably the most humiliated Tommy had ever felt. 

The grin immediately dropped from  Tubbo’s face, and he looked mortified as he stared at Tommy. 

“It’s not?” He looked dumbfounded, mouth agape as his cheeks reddened. The colour shifted from peach to rose to a deep crimson with embarrassment as he realised that this treehouse wasn’t public. 

“Uh- I- I’m Sorry! Y’see- I’m not- not from here, I didn’t-” Tubbo stammered, hastily trying to justify his actions. 

“I guessed that.” Tommy said, laughing a little. Though, upon closer inspection of the logo on Tubbo’s blazer and realised that he wasn’t just from out of town, he was from  _ out of town _ , where people probably bathed in money because they were so rich. Tubbo must’ve noticed his surprise regarding the logo, so he tried to normalize the conversation a bit more. 

“Uh, yeah! This is my school uniform…” He trailed off, not doing much to deter the slightly awkward tone the conversation had taken. 

Tommy noticed that Tubbo was ever-so-slowly heading closer to the treehouse edge, ready to bolt as soon as he could. 

“You can stay if you want.” Tommy grumbled, refusing to make eye contact. Only big men were supposed to be allowed in the treehouse, and all the local big men were off at uni. However, Tubbo seemed like a good kid, perhaps able to become one of the big men eventually. 

“I can?’  Tubbo questioned, and that familiar smile returned. His face must hurt from smiling so much. 

He shuffled forward a bit, now that he wasn’t moving away, Tommy could get a proper look at him.  Tubbo had brown hair, sporting a couple blonde-leaning highlights; probably from the sun. He had deep-green eyes with hints of blue. A couple freckles brushed his nose, and his face still showed the remnants of embarrassment from earlier, a light blush still present. 

Tommy understood that. He’d be pretty embarrassed if he accidentally climbed into somebody’s treehouse thinking it was public too. Not that it would happen, Tommy was too smart and cool to do something like that. One hundred percent.

“Yep.” Tommy answered, popping the ‘p’. “You seem alright, Big T.” The nickname rolled off his tongue easily, and it seemed to surprise even Tommy himself. He opened his mouth to apologise, before Tubbo began to laugh. Clutching at his sides, he continued to cackle and wheeze, wiping a tear from his eye as he said between fits of giggling,

“Big T?  _ That’s _ the nickname you came up with?” Tubbo looked at Tommy with an air of disbelief, trying not to snicker. 

“Well, of course it is, you-you dickhead!” Tommy spluttered, pouting. “It’s Reverse Psychology, or some shit.” Tommy found himself stumbling over his own words while rushing to defend himself. “If you accept the nickname- you'll get um- You'll get taller!” 

Tubbo was finding it  _ so _ hard to keep his laughter in while tommy continued to verbally trip over and over, trying to link his words together into a coherent sentence. 

“You know what  i mean!” Tommy gave up, flopping back onto the floor of the treehouse, seemingly forgetting how rickety the old planks had been earlier. He shot back up when a concerning ‘creak’ sounded from below him, making a mental note to stay away from that area of flooring. Already giggly from Tommy’s earlier fumbling,  Tubbo burst into another fit of laughing. 

“You’re a right silly bloke, huh?”  Tubbo asked, though it was really more of a statement. He looked over to Tommy, whose face was currently contorting into some sort of faux offence, spluttering and sending off less-than distasteful remarks towards  tubbo , who understood that they weren’t sincere.

“I’m not silly! You-You are!”

“Tommy!” Phil’s voice echoed from the house; slight accent seemingly accentuated from the distance. His hand stuck out from a window facing the house, and he waved out, as if his shout from earlier didn’t kill Tommy’s eardrums enough for him to return inside. 

“Oh, I guess you  gotta go.” Tommy said, his tone unsarcastically solemn. Having company for once made him realise just how much he missed having someone to talk to, someone to be around. He wasn’t just about to leave that behind because his dad was calling him in for dinner. 

Tubbo looked around, taking in the now rosy pink-and-purple tint that adorned their surroundings. 

“Oh, you’re right.” Taking a glance at his watch,  Tubbo’s eyes widened as he read the boxy green lettering. “Oh shit.” He exclaimed, scrambling and almost falling face-first out of the treehouse. 

“Woah- chill dude-  Tubbo -” Tommy spluttered as  Tubbo messily made his way down the makeshift rope ladder.

“ My dads are  gonna kill me dude! I was supposed to be home like, half an hour ago at the  _ latest.”  _ Tubbo was fumbling to get his foot unstuck, while Tommy was trying to help. 

“And  _ my _ dad is  gonna kill me if he sees some random guy in our yard, let alone someone from your side of town; he thinks you’re all pricks.” Tommy exclaimed, sighing with relief when  Tubbo’s foot was freed. 

“ So he’s one of  _ those,  _ huh?”  Tubbo said, his face falling at the revelation.

“Uh-huh, but he doesn’t have to know.” Tommy suggested, gaze flickering from  Tubbo to the door his dad could easily walk out of. He didn’t want to think of what could happen if his dad saw him hanging out with one of the rich kids. 

“I’d better go, maybe we can meet on the corner after school tomorrow?”  Tubbo suggested, rounded eyes glancing over at Tommy. 

“Yeah, Yeah.” Tommy agreed.

“Hurry up, will  ya ’!” Phil’s voice could be heard again. He sounded a bit  more angry now, but not enough to be considered uncalled for. 

“Well, I guess you’ve  gotta go.” Tommy said, bending down to re-tie his shoelaces which had come undone in the commotion.

“Yeah. Tomorrow after school, until then.”  Tubbo said, turning on his heel and jogging away, slowing his pace once he was out of sight from the front windows of Tommy’s house.

Tommy finished tying his shoelaces and headed inside, brushing the grass-covered soles of his ratty sneakers on their cheap welcome mat before sitting down for dinner. 

._______________.

“Where’s he run off to now, J?” A petite man set a silver tray onto a long, sleek dining table, a dark brownish-black akin to his hair. 

“Who knows, Q.” A second man was seated on one of the plush dining chairs. “He doesn’t go outside much, does he. He’s gotten so pale recently, I’m surprised he didn’t wilt in the sunlight.” He reached over and plucked a glass from the tray, liquid inside glowing a warm butterscotch from the fireplace. One hand slightly loosened his maroon tie, while the other look a sip of alcohol. 

“Shouldn’t we be more worried about him?” Said the shorter, re-filling the glass. “I mean, he is just a kid, and not to be discourteous, but it’s not like he’s a  _ fighter _ .” 

“Mm... He’ll be fine, he’s fun off before, remember?” 

The soft yet jarring click of their large, arching oak door alerted the two men to a small presence next to their door. 

“Speak of the devil, hello Tubbo.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Hopefully, the next chapters will rise in quality, I was just testing the waters with this one and I think I can do a lot better :]  
> Also, I just want to clarify that Schlatt and Quackity are just two friends who adopted a child together in this fic, they r not romantically involved!! Sorta like Ranboo, Tubbo and Michael :D  
> Here's My Twitter if you want to yell at me, I might post fic updates too: https://twitter.com/AN1MALCRACKERS_


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